I'll Settle
by ally-kat312
Summary: Gregory watches Christophe shovel snow in their driveway. Random thing I wrote because shoveling snow sucks but hey, shovels are Le Mole. Not really paring-y if you want to read it that way.


**A/N: Oh my shit why did I write this. Um. So I was shoveling my driveway because there was snow. And I had on boots. And a shovel. So I wrote this in my head. Seriously it's a stupid little drabble thing. Just... read it or don't. I wanted to post something.**

Gregory watches the man outside, pushing the newly fallen snow out of the driveway. For someone so in love with shovels, he seems to hate the task, cursing and kicking when anything more resilient than powder gets in his way. The Brit laughs softly. He knew this would happen. That was the reason he sent his husband out there to shovel. Gregory looks at the beagle sleeping at his feet and wonders if he should send the dog out there too. It had taken over a year of begging and a payment that was both embarrassing and wonderfully satisfying, but Christophe finally relented.

"Ok ok, fine. We will get a dog beetch. Stop bugging me about eet."

Gregory knows he hates, or rather, fears dogs. But the friendly, fairly small beagle hadn't scared him away too much. Gregory scratches it behind the ears.

"Good boy," he murmurs, and thinks better of sending the dog into the deep snow. He goes back to looking outside. Christophe is now yelling at someone across the street, probably arguing with Kenny about something stupid. The two of them get into arguments over nothing but they were still close. Gregory smiles at the memory of last Christmas when Kenny came in already half drunk. There had been shouting and, yes, arguing, but later they all sat outside smoking. Gregory opted for a cigar though. He hates how unrefined he looks with a cigarette, though he would be concerned to see his husband without one. The kettle in the kitchen whistles him out of the memory. He walks in to pour himself a cup of tea. English tea of course, perfect for the snowy weather. Gregory thinks about calling up Pip to have a cuppa with him. However, Damien almost never lets Pip leave Hell to drink tea with Gregory. Unless he and Christophe are up to no good. They mentioned something about burning down small churches at one point. Gregory doesn't want any part of that. He considers inviting Corey instead. Both of them like Corey, but Corey doesn't drink tea. He takes coffee, black, and always steals some of their silverware when he comes over. That boy hoards silver like a dragon hoards gold, Gregory thinks, sipping the tea slowly. Not just that, but Corey was Christophe's friend first. Gregory just finds his Cockney accent endearing, reminding him of his hometown. It's sad he doesn't have a long list of friends to chose from. After Corey he may consider Gary, but Christophe is home and hates Mormons. There was Stan, but Gregory can only take so much awkward fidgeting from the man as he fails to truly comprehend what Gregory is saying. Stan may bring Kyle, which would be good, but Gregory always feels himself subconsciously staring at the Star of David that Kyle keeps pinned to the hat he never takes off. Kyle likes everyone to know what makes him special in the town, but he also gets upset if people goggle at it like they had never seen a Jewish star. The two's visits to their house were few and far between. No, not them, Gregory thinks. He's back to staring at Christophe shovel the driveway. The poor bastard is only halfway done and lighting up already. His dependency scares Gregory but he doesn't like arguing about it. Maybe Craig, he thinks, his attention back on having someone over. But Craig practically runs Tweak Bros. Coffee, even though he's just an employee. The real owner apparently thought the job was "way too much pressure!" It was very typical of him. Gregory sighs and considers just putting snow tires on the car and letting Christophe come inside and stop shoveling. But this is just the first snowfall of many, and winter is barely started. Christophe can bear the shoveling for today, and hopefully yell at Kenny to attach a snowplow to the front of his truck and plow the street. Gregory frowns anyways and looks out the window, trying to convince himself to let the man in. He's probably cold, for one- he doesn't wear a hat like many others in the town, and his coat is beginning to wear thin. His boots are fine though, steel-toed and tightly hugging his calves. Then he notices his gloves.

"My god," Gregory sighs. "He's going to give himself frostbite." Christophe is wearing his usual worn leather gloves, fingerless ones to be exact. He's crazy, Gregory thinks, chuckling a little. When the man is on the other side of the windowpane, Gregory taps the glass to get his attention.

"Come inside love," he says. "You'll catch your death out there." Christophe gladly, for once, throws down his shovel and walks to the door. Gregory hears it open, the Frenchman already halfway through his mutterings.

"I 'ate zis town." He stomps the snow off his boots. "All ze cold weather. And sleet. Ze wind ees a beetch." Slamming the door, he shrugs off his coat and leaves it on the floor in a damp heap. Gregory picks it up and hangs it to dry.

"Well that's what you get when you decide to live in the Colorado mountain area," he laughs.

"Zis was your idea," Christophe grumbles, throwing logs into the fireplace. "I never wanted zis."

"And what did you want?" Gregory leans in the living room doorframe. "A nice little country house in France, surrounded by all the dirt you could dig?"

"Oui."

"Minus me?" Christophe flicks the match into the fire and looks at Gregory.

"Non," he says, "plus you."

"Ah, so I was merely a bonus to the country house?" Gregory sets the tea mug down as Christophe walks up to him.

"You are eempossible mon cher," he mutters, but smiles slightly. "Fine. I wanted to be wiz you, no matter where zat was. Preferably eet would be somewhere een France where no one even knows what South Park ees-"

"But you'll settle for this small mountain town life?" Gregory puts his arms around Christophe's shoulders, making the other laugh.

"Oui, I will settle." They kiss, and Gregory frowns slightly.

"Your nose is freezing," he says.

"I was shoveling snow outside for a 'alf 'our, what do you expect?" Christophe rubs his nose on Gregory's face, making the blonde whine about the cold, but laugh. Their beagle runs into the room and circles their feet, barking happily at the two. Christophe picks him up and scratches him behind the ears, then sits in front of the now blazing fire in the fireplace. Gregory sits beside him, grabbing his tea and a book. The room is quiet except for crackling logs and the occasional whine of the dog when Christophe stops petting him. The snow keeps falling and no one comes over.

**A/N: Review if it's worth it.**


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